


without you (there's a void)

by yourresidentialrobot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Canon Universe, Developing Relationship, Dreams, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05, Quintessence, Romance, Season 6 Fix-It, Soulmate AU, The Blade of Marmora - Freeform, UNLIKE IN CANON LOL, klance, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14960052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourresidentialrobot/pseuds/yourresidentialrobot
Summary: He saw a figure, ghostly, grasping the air."Keith?" It asked.His eyes widened, and he took a step closer. "Lance?"It was Lance, looking exactly as Keith remembered him. His hair stuck up in little brown tufts, freckles dotted across his golden cheeks, and there was bewilderment on his sharp face. He was relieved. Memories didn't fade as quickly as he thought.It took everything he had not to throw himself at Lance.In which quintessence is more powerful than ever imaginable, Hunk's diplomacy is put to the test, and two boys have to break the patterns they've made to find each other.





	without you (there's a void)

_It was dark. So, so dark, and Lance was alone._

_Something hurt. He grabbed his face and felt warm fluid on his fingers._

_Blood? No. Tears._

_“Keith, where are you?” He called into the darkness._

_A pinprick of light appeared at the edge of his vision, as if answering his call. It grew closer, until it was right before him._

_Keith’s angelic face stared at him, resolute._

_“Keith,” he said, feeling his muscles sag with relief. “I knew you’d come back.”_

_The purple eyes regarded him with no emotion._

_Lance reached out. “I-“_

_Keith turned around, and Lance was thrown into the blackness._

_“No, please!”_

_Lance waved his arms wildly, as if he were a drowning man trying to swim, but Keith was nowhere to be found._

_“Keith!”_

_The void had no beginning and no end._

_“Keith!”_

.  
.  
.

“Keith!”

Lance jerked awake, sweat trickling down his face. He flung his covers off of his body, desperately seeking air, and winced. 

He glanced down at his fingers, knowing what he would find, and dreading it just the same.

The telltale burns patterned his arms, starting at the fingertips and climbing upwards. He cursed.

Every night, without fail, Lance had terrible dreams, and when he woke, his arms were scorched. 

It wasn’t the burns that were the problem, per se. Yes, they were painful, and yes, they were annoying, but they disappeared in a couple hours’ time.

It was the dreams which really got to Lance.

Always there, always alone, and he’d see but never touch-

He winced again. Pain shot through his nerves. 

“Will you _cut it out?_ ” he scolded, glaring at his fists.

His mind turned to Keith again, remote and cold as he was in Lance’s dream. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he alive? When he came back, would he act like he did in dreams? (Lance wanted to take his return for granted, because considering the prospects of a Keith-free life were, admittedly, horrifying).

Living without Keith was anything but easy.

.  
.  
.

Lately, the burns were getting worse. Keith would feel that familiar surge across his fingers- like electricity- and he’d pull off his suit to find red marks, vivid against his skin. They disappeared after a few hours. Well, _physically_ disappeared, at least.

His mental state, on the other hand, was a different beast. Each attack stuck further in his psyche, casting shadows over entire days, as if trying to warn him.

The first time it happened, Keith was out on some inane mission, back pressed to a wall, gripping his sword, when the first warning shivers swept his spine. Then, his fingers contracted, and he doubled over. He hardly registered his sword crashing to the floor. All his senses could handle was the intense crackling in his fingers. Like fire. Like freezing.

He emerged from his stupor to find his superiors looming over him, arms crossed and stern expressions twisting their lips. “We could have died because of you,” they scolded. 

Keith could only duck his head in response. _Where did I go wrong?_

He was close to telling the truth, really, he was. After all, he couldn’t let whatever _this_ was jeopardize his mission. The infuriating burns nearly did already, and several lives could’ve been lost.

There was one small caveat to this occurrence which gave him pause: they happened every time he thought about Lance.

What would they say, if they knew that somehow, inexplicably, thoughts of love were interfering with his missions? They’d call him crazy. Worse, they’d shut him out of the Blade. Even worse, they’d give him some alien drug to shut off his emotions altogether.

He thought of that face: the blue eyes, thin brows, trembling lips, desperate bravado. He yearned to see him again. The longer he spent away, the more afraid he became that he’d forget, as impossible as forgetting Lance seemed.

Meeting him again became the goal Keith worked towards. Lance was the sole reason Keith stayed alive. It was odd that way: Keith found it easier to live for someone else than himself.

He wouldn’t tell a soul. His bond with Lance was too important to relinquish.

“Shellshock,” he said to his superiors. “Paused for too long. I won’t let it happen again.”

If bearing the burns was what he must do, then so be it.

.  
.  
.

Lance leaned on Hunk’s doorway and knocked. “Hunk, buddy? You busy?” 

“Kinda,” Said Hunk, “But I can talk.” He closed his computer and stretched. “What’s the problem?”

“That’s the thing,” said Lance. He sat on Hunk’s bed, directly facing him. “I have no idea.”

“Very specific,” Hunk said, dry. “Sorry, that was rude. Describe… uh… whatever’s going on to me.”

“I’ve been having these… dreams… lately, and well-“ Lance peeled his sleeves back to display his hands. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Holy crap, Lance!” Hunk rushed over and examined the burns, careful not to make contact. “Do they hurt?”

“Not really. They did when I woke up.”

“It looks almost consistent with spontaneous combustion,” he said. “But you’re clearly fine, and the damage is contained to one area. You have no idea what happened?” 

“If I did, I would have told you.”

“Have you shown anyone else? Pidge? Allura? Shiro?”

Lance shook his head.

“I’m not sure I’m qualified to deal with this,” said Hunk. “I’m the only one who knows?”

“I trusted you the most.”

Hunk furiously blinked, attempting to conceal how touching he found that statement.

“You said you had dreams.” Hunk rolled over to his desk and typed a rapid fire sequence of notes. “They come at the same time as these burns. Why don’t you talk about those?”

“Whenever I dream about-“ Lance reddened. “It's not important.”

“Dream about what?”

“You don’t need specifics.”

“Uh, yeah, I kinda do? So I can help you? Sorry, man, I don’t wanna pry, but I can’t do much with what you’re giving me.”

“Sorry.” Lance rubbed his neck, wanting nothing more than to sink through the ship and fly into deep space. He knew that Hunk knew he liked boys. That wasn’t the issue. 

It was a little embarrassing to admit to Hunk that his theory about Lance’s “Garrison Crush” was entirely correct. Lance was overwhelmed, but he had pride. 

He’d have to swallow it.

“Don’t be sorry, stupid. I’m helping you. Now, what are you dreaming about?”

“Not what. Who.”

“Who…” Hunk’s jaw dropped. The conclusion he made played out on his face. He grinned. “So, you’re admitting you miss Keith.”

“I never said _that!_ ” Lance’s voice cracked, and he held up his hands defensively, as if to push the notion away. “That’s not the point!”

Just because he was having incessant, infuriating dreams about the guy did NOT mean Lance missed him.

Miss _Keith?_ Miss him and his infuriating scowls, his thick black hair, his ivory skin, his angry muscles and his voice? Miss the vague, blurry memories of being cradled in those arms? Miss hearing that voice, uncharacteristically soft, ask if he was okay? The very notion was absurd. 

Or, that was what he told himself, because what was the point of missing Keith? What was the point of getting sad? What was the point, when Keith wasn’t here to comfort him?

When war knocked on your doorstep, your last concern was your crush’s absence. It was an unnecessary distraction. There were other things to worry over. You know, like _not dying._ When it came to life or death situations, his feelings were on the back burner. 

So why couldn’t Lance stop thinking about him?

“Don’t worry,” Hunk said, cutting through Lance’s frenzied thoughts, “He misses you too.”

A flicker of suspicion crossed Lance’s mind at that. He pushed it away in favor of the more pressing issue. “That doesn’t explain the burns! Or the dreams.”

“Maybe that’s what happens when people are meant for each other.”

“You really think so?” Despite himself, Lance was drawn in at the talk of soulmates.

“Quintessence is weird, man,” Hunk said, shaking his head. “I mean, that’s not exactly what happens with Shay and I- We get dreams, but never burns. Maybe it helps that we message each other, though.”

“Nice to know I’m not the only one suffering, I guess.”

“I’m sure the burns are related, they have to be,” said Hunk, thoughtfully rubbing his jaw. “They happen _every single time_ you dream about Keith. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“I suppose not.” Lance didn’t need to be told what he already knew, deep in his heart.

“I bet he has the same dreams,” said Hunk, rubbing his chin.

_Hunk talks about Keith as if he knows something I don’t._

“Wait a hot second, Hunk.” Lance lowered his hands, a sharp eyebrow raising. “Earlier. You said he misses me. And just now, you said he has the same dreams. How would you know?”

“I… uh… I just do.”

Lance knew Hunk too well. He knew when he was hiding something. Downturned eyes, hunched body, twist of the lips; Hunk couldn’t hide things, period. “Hunk, I’m not mad at you. Just tell me.”

Hunk’s hands were going to ignite if he stared at them any longer. “I call him every other week, see what he’s up to.”

Lance’s throat burned. He gripped the arm of his chair.

As far as he knew, there was no way to contact the Blade. Keith was too busy on missions, and the methods of contact were incompatible with that of the Altean technology, as the Blade preferred an outdated signaling system. “Confusing the enemy,” they called it.

There was also the fact that they preferred to insulate Keith from his previous life. Which royally _sucked._

There was no way to contact Keith. Every time Lance asked Allura about it, that was the answer.

“He can… call you?”

“Yeah,” said Hunk, shrinking in his chair. “We kinda found a work around between my phone and his tech?”

“So he _could_ talk to all of us,” said Lance, a horrible feeling uncoiling in his stomach, “If he wanted to.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. He kind of just wanted it to be us. He was kinda mad when I first called him, too,” added Hunk. “Yelled a bunch about privacy and stuff like that.”

The anger in his stomach curdled, becoming far closer to resentment. You see, there was a never ending narrative taking place in the theatre of Lance’s mind- everyone hated him, no one cared about him, he was insignificant, the works- and of all the people Lance knew, Keith had a talent for starting that dialogue. He practically had a starring role. 

It used to be like that, anyhow. Then, Keith started to open up. The last time they talked, under the guise of leader and teammate, Lance felt that something had changed between them, something tender and unspoken and unknown. 

He remembered, he remembered. Lance liked to pretend that he didn’t. It was safer that way.

He remembered that day. They were painfully close, and Keith’s arms were crossed, a buffer between them. He nearly touched those arms. He wanted to see if Keith had goosebumps, if he felt the way Lance did, as if a lightning storm were approaching and the air bristled with energy. Those eyes were dark and unreadable. He longed to take that soft face within his hands, and read those eyes. Maybe even read him with his lips, if he wanted. 

His heartbeat quickened, and he reached out. 

But doing these things with Keith was an impossibility. His hand slipped away.

He left with a sad smile.

When Keith left, he didn’t smile.

And that was the end of that.

Objectively, Lance knew why he was left behind. He was almost flattered by the notion, really. Keith wanted everyone else to keep their lions. In a typical Keith self-sacrificing moment, he left his own. Treasuring that, feeling like he was special, someone worth saving, was the only thing Lance had to hold onto in Keith’s absence.

Hell, he thought maybe Keith felt the same way.

Clearly, he didn’t.

“He could’ve called me,” said Lance, “and he didn’t. I’ve been worried sick about him, and he’s been giving you weekly updates.” 

“Bi weekly,” corrected Hunk.

He stood. “Forget I said anything. I take it all back.”

“Lance, wait,” said Hunk.

“I don’t want to talk about Keith anymore.”

“What about your problem?”

“I’ll figure it out,” said Lance, reaching the door. “Don’t worry about me, buddy.”

“He misses you!”

“I find that hard to believe.” 

His footsteps trailed to the door. Hunk winced at the door- who knew an automatic door could slam? He’d ask Allura about it later. 

First, he was calling Keith.

.  
.  
.

Lance stormed into his room, flung himself in bed, and screamed into his pillow.

He hated boys. This was why he preferred women.

No, that wasn’t fair. He hated one specific boy. Lance snorted. _Like_ Keith? He’d be fine if he just felt neutrally towards the guy, but even that was too much to ask for.

Lance didn’t know why he had a crush on Keith in the first place.

By all other accounts, he preferred people who gave him attention, made him feel heard. It was practically a quota. If you can’t do that, don’t bother applying.

There was only one time where Keith met that requirement, and it was when Lance was injured and barely conscious. He could’ve hallucinated it, for all he knew. Not the best basis for a relationship.

Sure, he liked a good chase every now and then, but that wasn’t love. What he felt for Keith was as far from a fling as he could get. He was sick of watching Keith’s back as he walked away from him. 

For once, could he be the one people were chasing?

How would he possibly like Keith, anyway? Was it his scowl? His mullet? His sour attitude? His fingerless gloves? Lance despised all of those traits.

Well, not all of it. He liked when Keith’s hard facade pulled away, and he saw the boy underneath. When things felt achievable, honest, equal between them, he wanted nothing more than to grab onto Keith and never let go. 

He unlocked a secret side to Keith that no one else ever saw. It made him feel like he earned something, like he was... special. Was there anything wrong with that? He couldn’t say.

As for Keith’s appearance, well...

Maybe, just maybe, he could admit to _occasionally_ thinking Keith’s mullet looked good. But, of course, only on Keith. His prettiness canceled out the redneck aspect (but Lance would never enable mullets).

 

The fingerless gloves were pretty edgy, but that was the last thing he cared about. Whenever Lance looked at Keith’s hands, his instinct was to hold one. 

When Lance was overwhelmed with his feelings toward Keith, he shut himself in his room and ran through his laundry list. He’d allow himself to feel his emotions. Then, he’d leave the room, allowing them to dissipate.

He figured that would happen a lot less with Keith gone, but the times he visited his room grew more and more often.

Keith was like a missing tooth. Sure, you don’t notice them in your mouth when they’re there, but when they’re missing, they leave a massive, bloody, gaping hole. Even when it’s healed, your tongue returns to it again, hoping for a different answer than the raw void it encounters. 

Lance rolled over and laid his cheek on the pillow. 

There were two truths he systematically denied, and those same truths couldn’t be pushed away any longer. He was in love with Keith, and he missed him. Those feelings mattered.

“Stupid mullet,” he muttered, curling up in his blankets, wishing that Keith was there with him.

.  
.  
.

“Lance said he missed me?” Keith sounded skeptical. Hunk could picture him as he said it, a tilt to his head and quirk in his mouth. “You sure about that?”

“Would I tell you if I wasn’t absolutely sure?” Hunk rolled his eyes.

“Well, you are a bit of a gossip.”

“Keith,” Hunk inhaled, irritation surging through him. “He left my room like a minute ago.”

Keith was silent.

“He’s pretty pissed,” Hunk added. 

Worry poured through the phone. “Pissed?”

“At you.”

“Oh,” Keith said, sounding relieved, “I thought something happened. He’s always pissed at me.”

“He wasn’t. Until I told him we were calling each other.”

Keith let out an indignant squawk. “Hunk,” he growled, “Our calls are supposed to be private!”

“I didn’t tell him what we talked about! Mostly.”

He seethed. “What do you mean, _mostly?_ ”

“I may or may not have said you miss him,” Hunk whimpered, his voice fading to a squeak. 

“You…”

“But it’s okay! He didn’t believe me,” he said, trying to appease the stunned Keith.

“Of course he didn’t,” Keith replied, hollow.

“He was just upset about the calls. He didn’t mean it.”

“Forget it, I-“ His voice choked before he could finish. He cleared his throat and tried again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter!” Hunk replied, blood rising to his face. 

“Look, I gotta go on a mission soon,” said Keith, “Can we talk about something else? How are you?”

“No, we’re not dodging this,” Hunk growled. “You can’t avoid him much longer, Keith. And he’s already mad at _me_ for keeping you a secret.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Keith, evasive as ever. 

Although Hunk was less than pleased at the position he was in, it was always a relief to hear Keith’s voice.

It was odd, talking to him like this, hearing his voice, more fragile than it had even been, pouring straight from his heart into the receiver. Hunk was almost grateful that Keith left- but not really- because he’d learned far more about the boy over the phone than he had when they were on a team together.

Now that they’d shared this bond, he wanted nothing more than to see Keith walk through that door, and wrap him into a hug. The boy needed it.

Only after he got his hug would he consider tackling the Keith and Lance situation.

Before he could do that, he needed to set Keith straight.

“I was talking about this to Lance- before he stormed out, you know- ever thought about quintessence?”

“Uh, yeah.” Keith was amused.

“You little jerk, you know what I meant.”

“I got it,” Keith said. “You really think he and I are linked? Can we be real here?”

“I’m being pretty real with you, man.” Hunk scowled.

This wasn’t the final straw, but it was one of them. Keith and Lance were the most irritatingly obvious duo Hunk had ever seen. One would move a little left, and a minute later the other would move a little left too. They ate dinner next to each other every single night. They found reasons to talk to each other at every possible moment, irritating the team. Beneath their bickering laid a foundation of respect and trust. 

For a while there, before Keith left, Hunk was convinced they were dating in secret.

“Dude, he hates me.”

“I literally JUST TOLD YOU, he’s mad you didn’t call him!”

“Yeah, because he wants a reason to be mad at me.”

Keith, as oblivious and obstinate as ever. Hunk knew why Lance bickered with him so much.

“HE WANTED TO TALK TO YOU! Are you really that-“ Hunk pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind.”

Keith hummed. “You might be onto something, actually.”

“Oh, so you admit it,” Hunk said, victorious.

“In a one sided way, yes.”

The sense of victory disappeared. Of course, how could Hunk think he’d ever win against Keith? It was no wonder Lance was frustrated.

“Where is this going?”

“If I tell you this,” he said, voice shaking, “You have to promise me you’ll never tell Lance.”

Hunk sighed. “Pinky swear.”

“I think… I might like him.”

Hunk was speechless.

“It’s just… I miss him, I know I already told you that-“

“Several times.” Keith wasn’t stubborn. Keith was straight up unaware.

“-but I really miss him. I can’t stop thinking about him. I hate it. It’s interfering with my missions. And I have these awful dreams…”

“Hold the phone,” said Hunk. “Lance was talking to me about dreams, too.”

“Great. A magical quintessence bond is looking more and more likely.”

Hunk bristled at the insult to his theory. “What’s wrong with that?”

Keith snorted.

“I don’t get why you guys are so afraid of love,” he said. “I think it’s beautiful.”

“Please don’t say that word.”

“Which, “love,” or “beautiful?” 

“Either.” He sounded nauseous.

“Look,” Hunk said. “You want a solution, you’ve got one. But you need to buck up and talk to him.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

His voice trembled. “I- I think I should go now. Call me some other time?”

Hunk’s resolve softened when he heard Keith’s voice. “Okay. Keith, take care of your-“

Hunk swore he heard a sniffle before the call cut off.

.  
.  
.

_When Hunk first went to preschool, he didn’t cry or cling to his mother like the other kids. He was excited to make new friends, and wise beyond his years, knew his mother would come back for him. Even as a child, he trusted._

_He went into the room, cautiously holding his mother’s hand (while he was an independent child, he still yearned for comfort). The room, predictably enough, was chaos. There was screaming, crying,_

_Hunk’s eyes cut across the clamor to find who needed attention._

_He found a boy, sitting in the corner, holding his legs, and conspicuously trying not to cry. He wasn’t succeeding._

_Hunk’s mom left, calling out words of reassurance, and the moment the door closed, Hunk walked over to the boy._

_“What’s your name?” He asked._

_The boy wiped his eyes and became a new person. “I’m Lance,” he said, smacking his chest._

_Hunk regarded him carefully. “Wanna play?” He held his hand out, motioning for Lance to take it. He always saw his dad do that when he met new people. It seemed the proper thing to do._

_Lance gave him a high five._

How long ago was that? Hunk wondered. He and Lance were friends for a long time.

As such, they knew each other inside and out. Lance thought he could mask his insecurities with bravado, but Hunk sensed that from their first encounter. He let it pass, knowing that some people had different ways of dealing with emotion.

As they grew older, Lance got worse. There were days when he’d talk to Hunk, and Hunk would see the tired lines at the corners of his eyes, and the words that he wanted to say, but didn’t. Hunk wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t know how to tackle it, and then when he opened his mouth, Lance would already be on a different subject, face lit back up as if nothing happened.

It was Hunk’s biggest failure as a friend. On those nights, the ones where he sat up and worried about the things he could have changed, things he could have fixed, Lance was one of the faces which came to mind.

It was easier to make mistakes than it was to fix them. Especially when you were years deep into a friendship and unsure how to change the status quo.

He should’ve encouraged Lance to let himself be more free. Maybe he should’ve sat down and asked Lance to talk about his emotions, instead of distracting him from them altogether. All those years of enabling paid off with the storm of repression and denial currently brewing inside his best friend.

Even worse, he lied to Lance about Keith. While it may have been what Keith asked for, a real best friend wouldn't keep something like that a secret. He owed him a lot.

Now, as Lance’s best (and oldest) friend, it was his responsibility to save him from the turmoil. And although his friendship with Keith was a recent invention, it felt as if they’d known each other for a long time.

If a love doctor was who they needed, then that was who Hunk would be.

.  
.  
.

_Lance was crying. Keith reached out to comfort him, but his arm went straight through._

_“Lance,” he said, pleading. “What is it?”_

_“I’ve lost everything.”_

When Keith woke up, the burns stretched all the way to his shoulder.

.  
.  
.

Lance woke with teary eyes and a stinging arm.

.  
.  
.

Hunk seized his chance the moment he and Lance were alone in the kitchen. 

His bony shoulders struggled as he scrubbed at a particularly difficult dish. “I don’t get why Allura’s making us wash plates,” Lance moaned. “This is a magic castle, man.”

“Strength of character?”

“Sounds like something she’d say.” Lance set the plate on the rack to dry and grabbed the next. “Ouch!” 

It fell to the floor and shattered.

“Lance-“ Hunk ran to his side. “What happened?”

Lance twisted his hands in the hem of his shirt. “Nothing,” he muttered. Hunk saw the truth in his body.

“Your burns,” he said. “It happened again.”

Lance and Keith were more similar than they thought. Both smitten, both hurting, and both terrible liars.

Lance met him with silence.

“Lance, I know you don’t want to talk about Keith, but-“

“Yeah. I don’t.”

“But-“

“Wait, who? Kurt? Kyle? I didn’t catch that name.”

“Can you be mature for once and just listen to me?” Hunk’s annoyance boiled over. “I’m sorry, I just- listen to me. You and Keith suck at just shutting up and taking my advice.”

Lance was silent. Hunk took this as an affirmation.

“I have a lot to be sorry about,” he said. “It’s okay to be mad at Keith and I for lying- I get it.”

He turned his head slightly towards Hunk.

“But that doesn’t mean you can give it all up and make yourself miserable. People make mistakes. Keith makes mistakes. I make mistakes. I thought I was doing the right thing, and sometimes things just aren’t that easy.”

Lance sighed. “I know.”

“I really am sorry, Lance.”

“It’s no big deal.” Lance was still upset. Hunk could hear it in his voice. But it was something that Hunk could no longer fix. It was all up to Keith, and he’d do his best to steer the conversation in his direction.

“He asks about you sometimes.”

Lance paused, in the middle of formulating a biting retort. “He does?”

“Yeah,” Hunk said, fixing Lance with an accusatory stare. “If you’d let me finish, I would have told you that.”

Lance’s stomach boiled. That was Keith, contradictory and flammable, leaving him shocked in his wake, twirling in the smoke like a leaf in the wind. That was just like him.

He hated him, and he loved him.

It was safer to go with the former. “But- that still doesn’t mean anything- he could’ve just talked to me!”

“He was scared to, man,” Hunk said, beckoning Lance closer. “Can you blame him?”

“What, am I that annoying?” 

“No, the exact opposite, really.”

“What?” Lance rubbed his ears. Keith Kogane, not thinking the one and only Lance McClain was annoying? Impossible.

He supposed they’d gotten closer. There were times when Lance thought they were friends. Distance dissolved these bonds, until Lance thought there was nothing left at all besides his imagination.

While Lance liked to pretend he was never wrong, maybe that was the wrong call on his part.

“Stop being dense, Lance. He wants to talk to you.”

“Then he should!” Calling. Not calling. There were no grey areas, just action and inaction. Caring and not caring.

“It isn’t that easy.”

“It’s not any easier sitting around and doing nothing,” said Lance, who was conspicuously sitting around and doing nothing.

Hunk took note of this. “Then why don’t you call him?”

“Well-“

“If it’s so easy, pick up my phone and call him. He’ll answer.” Hunk dangled his phone before him.. 

Lance struggled. “Yeah, but-“

He took the phone. It vibrated in his touch. He scowled at that, not realizing that his trembling hand was the cause.

Keith’s contact name elicited a sigh. He bit it back, taking a peek at Hunk’s smug face. “I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t care.”

The longer Keith’s merciless eyes bored into him from the screen, the more sweat poured down Lance’s neck. He lifted a trembling finger, and pressed the call button.

It rung. Lance was close to chucking the phone across the room and bolting. Before he could, a familiar voice responded.

“Hello?”

Lance froze.

“Hunk? What is it?”

He hung up.

“Lance!”

“I’m sorry! I panicked!”

Hunk plucked the phone from Lance’s hands. “Not so easy, is it?”

Lance burst into tears.

“Jesus, dude- I didn’t mean it like that- I’m sorry.”

“It’s not you,” He wailed. “It’s everything. I’m a failure. I can’t think. I can’t lead. I can’t even get my skin to cooperate anymore, and that was the one thing I had left.” He waved an angry red wrist as proof.

“Lance, I don’t mean this to be weird, but you are a very attractive guy. And smart. And the best sharpshooter there ever was.”

“Coming from anyone but you, this would sound like bullshit.”

“Thanks?” Hunk said, puzzled. “Now, get your crap together and go get Keith.” He gave Lance a hearty clap on the back, likely far more powerful than intended, and making the boy burst out coughing.

Lance wheezed, “Hunk, my man, you are both the most supportive and the most infuriating guy I know.”

“It’s all part of the job description.” Hunk flung an arm around Lance’s shoulders. “Now, how about we clean up this mess and get some food goo?”

.  
.  
.

Keith and Hunk were an unlikely friendship, outwardly. One was dark and brooding, the other light and joyful. One was in Voltron, one was in the Blade.

It was Hunk’s resourcefulness that first brought them together. Keith fondly recalled their first phone call. 

_Keith didn’t have anyone he could talk to about this. Ironically, the person he most wanted to talk to- Lance- was the same person he wanted to talk about. And that royally sucked._

_So when Hunk called him, it took him a little by surprise._

_“Yes?”_

_“Hey, Keith.”_

_“Who is this?”_

_“Hunk. You know, Voltron Hunk?”_

_“Yeah, I know. How did you connect? Our systems aren’t compatible.”_

_“Well if you really wanna know the whole process-“_

_“Hunk…”_

_“Sorry! Just wondering how you’re doing.”_

_Keith was used to being ignored. Or, at least isolation. He knew it was his fault he was stuck on the outside, pressing his face to the fishbowl and watching the other Paladins laugh and talk and thrive, but when a pattern is formed, it’s hard to break. Hunk was one of those people who were too happy. Interacting with him seemed like scaling a mountain with bare hands- impossible._

_He let a single breath escape him. “Surviving, Hunk. How are you?”_

_“Better than you, evidently.”_

_“Have you gotten meaner since I left?”_

_Hunk chuckled. “Have you gotten funnier?”_

_The hesitance between them dissolved, and they fell into an easy rhythm of banter and conversation. They talked for nearly an hour, until Keith was called away on a mission._

That first call was what opened the floodgates between them.

Their calls continued over the next few weeks.

One day, his emotions reaching a breaking point, Keith nearly bit his nails off in frustration, and he called Hunk a minute later.

“What’s up, my man?”

“Do you think its a bad idea to tell Lance I miss him?”

“Slow down a second. What?”

It was the first time Keith brought up Lance’s name.

But Hunk didn’t ridicule him. The boy, welcoming as ever, listened intently and offered his advice. 

“Do what you feel is right,” he said.

Keith took it.

Hunk was warm, solid, and an all around decent guy. Keith knew he could count on him, and vice versa. 

When Keith told him about the Blade, about their vicious training, about “Victory or Death,” he was horrified. 

“How can you put up with it?” Hunk asked, mystified.

“It’s worth it,” he said, needing to justify his choice. 

_I have no idea was more along the lines of his thinking._

He needed a purpose. The Blade needed him. Voltron didn’t. Simple math. 

If only relationships worked the same way.

All he had left was Hunk, and even that bond was tenuous. Ironic, the way distance can bring people together.

.  
.  
.

Keith went to sleep that night, and he dreamed, as he always did, but something was wrong.

_It wasn’t black, like his dreams usually were. A light, foggy mist surrounded him. He swore he felt water droplets on his skin. Like rain._

_A sound echoed towards him._

_“-eith?”_

_He broke out into a run, knowing that voice instantly, faint as it was._

_“Lance?”_

_He saw a figure, ghostly, grasping the air._

_“Keith?” It asked._

_His eyes widened, and he took a step closer. “Lance?”_

_It was Lance, looking exactly as Keith remembered him. His hair stuck up in little brown tufts, freckles dotted across his golden cheeks, and there was bewilderment on his sharp face. He was relieved. Memories didn’t fade as quickly as he thought._

_It took everything he had not to throw himself at Lance._

_“You see me?” Lance asked._

_“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”_

_“Shut up a second, and let me look at you.” Lance’s eyes, warmer than Keith remembered, traveled across his body, ending at his face. “You look good,” he said._

_“So do you.”_

_“You really see me,” Lance said in disbelief._

_“Of course I do,” Keith said._

_“I thought you were ignoring me.”_

_“What?”_

_“You walked away from me, every time.”_

_“That wasn’t me.”_

_“I know about the phone calls.”_

_“Lance-“_

_“How could you? I thought we were friends.”_

_“We are.”_

_“Then how come you never called me?” His face was red. “If we’re SUCH great friends.”_

_“It’s not that simple.”_

_“Asking Hunk to pass the phone over is pretty easy.”_

_Lance clenched his fist. Time and time again, he was treated as a disposable object. Good for now, but not worth keeping around._

_He knew Keith was better than him. That was an unavoidable fact, one he’d come to terms with, after years of trying to keep up._

_That didn’t mean he wanted to be ignored._

_“Well,” Keith said. “We can talk now.”_

_Lance laughed bitterly. “Now you think we should talk. Why didn’t you think of that a few months ago, genius?”_

_“I- I couldn’t.” Keith looked conflicted._

_“Just spit it out! Why couldn't you talk to me?”_

_“I don’t know,” Keith said. “I was busy.”_

_“You found time to call Hunk.”_

_“That’s different.”_

_“No it isn’t!”_

_“Hunk doesn’t yell at me!”_

_“What, you don’t think I’m justified?”_

_Keith’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry.”_

_“Keith, all I want is to know why. It feels like you don’t even care about me.”_

_Keith glanced upwards, and a decision was clear in his face._

_“Keith, please tell me. Why?”_

_Keith’s face, far more smug and serene than Lance felt justified, hardly moved. “Because I’m in love with you, Lance.”_

_Lance’s hand dropped. “You-“_

_“And it’s too hard to deal with this, okay? So I avoided you.” Keith stared at the ground. “I don’t know how to hold a normal fucking conversation without screwing it all up. If you want me to wake up, I’ll wake up.”_

_He closed his eyes, and began to fade at the edges._

_Lance grabbed his hand. “Wait!” He cried. “Stay with me.”_

_Keith’s face contorted. “I’m confused,” he said. “I thought you hated me.”_

_“I’ve never hated you. Not once in my life.”_

_Keith pushed his hair aside, brows knitted. “Just tell me what you want.”_

_“You,” Lance said. “I want you.”_

_He froze. Then he snorted. “Even though I’m a mess?”_

_“If you’re a mess, I’m a natural disaster.”_

_“Perfect fit.”_

_“You know,” Keith said, taking a step towards Lance, “You didn’t say you like me back.”_

_Lance smiled nervously, and tugged at his shirt. Keith reached for his hand, but it passed through. Reality warped for a moment, then realigned._

_“Forgot we’re in a dream,” he said._

_Lance glanced up. “Keith, I-“_

_His words were drowned out by an intense ringing. “What?”_

_It went black._

_“Lance?”_

_“Keith? Where are you?”_

_“I think I’m waking up,” he said, looking down at his hands. He could see through them, and he was fading fast._

_“No!” Lance was panicked. “Don’t go!”_

_“We’ll see each other soon, I promise!”_

_“Keith!”_

.  
.  
.

He woke up to Hunk’s voice in his ear.

“Sorry for forcing the call through,” Hunk said. “It’s just- I called a lot and usually you tell me if you’re busy and I worried-“

“It’s okay,” he replied, his voice coming out in a rasp. 

“Are you alright?”

Keith looked, frankly, awful. There were more lines under his eyes than stars outside Hunk’s window. His hair was even messier than usual, dark tufts poking every which way and crawling down the back of his neck. He was skinnier than the last time they talked.

Hunk worried about him.

“Why’d you call me earlier?” Keith groaned. 

“About that,” said Hunk, pulling at his shirt, “that was Lance.”

Keith choked. “Wha- He- WHY DID HE HANG UP?”

“Same reason you don’t call him.”

There wasn’t much Keith could say to that.

“Lance and I were talking about it earlier, actually. You should call him.”

“I- I don’t know if I should.”

“He misses you.”

“He told me last night.”

“You talked?”

“Not exactly.”

“Keith,” said Hunk, sounding aged beyond his years, “What did you do now?”

“Some sort of… shared dream? Mind meld? I don’t know what to call it. I went to sleep, and he was there.”

“Whoa, whoa, so your minds connected? My quintessence theory was dead on!”

“We’re not a science experiment,” said Keith dryly. “But yeah, you were right. About everything.”

“You guys are good now?”

“We worked it out.”

“So you’re finally gonna call him, huh?” Hunk asked, satisfied.

“I’m not calling Lance,” Keith said. “I’ve got a better idea in mind.”

Hunk’s eyes bulged. “Keith, what are you-“

He hung up.

One more day with the Blade, and he’d wind up dead- or worse. The tension had been building for awhile. His superiors suspected him of hiding something, not knowing how accurate they were, when his burns lay beneath his suit. They sent him on solo suicide missions, as if they wanted him to die, and he barely returned with his life. They preached victory or death, and hardly knew what made life worth living.

Lance was a large factor in his leaving, yes, but there was more to it than that. Hunk’s advice, as usual, was tried and true: do what feels right.

Keith left his room, worrying none about packing, for he had no belongings. He slipped past the generals and commanders. He knew full well that they’d stop him if they saw. He flew through the shadows like liquid. He was invincible.

Subterfuge was simple when love flowed through his veins.

He made it into the shuttle bay without attracting notice. The benefit of having no rank, he supposed.

He stole onto a shuttle. He launched. And he kept going. And he didn’t look back.

.  
.  
.

_Purple roses. Distant smiles. Someone talking, but just far enough away that he couldn’t make out the words. A pair of arms, crossed. Those same arms, cradling him._

Lance was awoken from his uneasy sleep by a foreboding feeling that something was coming. He sat up in bed, pulse pounding.

He waited. Nothing happened.

There was no way he could get back to sleep.

He got out of bed and dug around inside his keepsake box. He pulled out a sheet of paper.

Lance had a list of his favorite interactions with Keith. Not a mental checklist, like the one he went through when he experienced a wave of love. He had a real, physical, numbered list- on notebook paper, mind you- of the times he and Keith spent together.

This was for the days when he thought Keith and him were an impossibility.

The paper was wrinkled. These days came all too often.

1\. _"We had a bonding moment. I cradled you in my arms!” Keith objected, his voice cracking._

_“Nope, can’t remember. Didn’t happen,” Lance replied._

_It was nice to see that Keith cared, even if Lance wasn’t willing to admit his feelings._

2\. _Oh, he definitely remembered the bonding moment._

It was too private for him to even write down in full.

3\. _“Watching the stars?” Keith said, sitting beside Lance._

_“If you’re here to make fun of me, don’t-“_

_“I do it too,” he continued, “When I miss my dad.”_

_“What?”_

_“I don’t like to talk about it, and I’m not going to.”_

_Lance’s head spun. He knew, he always knew there was something different about Keith’s home life, but the outright confirmation hurt._

_He felt lucky. Yes, he missed his family, but they were right there waiting for him. Keith lacked that option._

_“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling the futility of the words as they left his mouth._

_“Don’t be, it was a long time ago.”_

_“It’s still sad.”_

_“And so is missing your family. It’s okay to be sad, Lance.”_

_They sat there for awhile._

A warm rush swept across Lance’s heart. This was when he started to trust Keith. Not as a teammate, but as a friend.

4\. _One time, they were training together. No one else was there. And, of course, Lance’s life being fantastically timed, this was before he realized he had a crush on Keith._

_They ended up pressed together, and Keith laughed. “Too much for you?” He asked, chuckling._

_Lance wanted to make his usual snide retort, but he didn’t. He stayed silent._

_For once in his life, he managed to preserve the moment._

_Keith, sensing that something was different, looked over at Lance, scanning him with those deep eyes. “Lance?”_

_“Huh?”_

_“I said, is it too much for you?”_

_“Yeah, it is,” Lance breathed._

_Keith, not knowing how to respond, folded his arms. “Oh,” he said._

_“Yeah,” Lance replied._

This was why Lance was uncertain. Keith left on a note where things were still unresolved between them. There was always going to be that big fat question mark, hanging in the air.

There were more experiences written down, many more, but that was all he could take. He bent his head.

Now, he knew Keith liked him. That was for sure, and it was enough to keep him from falling into despair. He didn’t know whether Keith would return, or even call, or what. There was more than love between them, there was an entire war, and Keith couldn’t up and leave for someone so insignificant as Lance.

Maybe the fear would be there forever. Maybe it would be fixed. 

After their talk, Lance was less certain than ever.

.  
.  
.

“Keith? Is that you?” Allura’s voice, sleepy and confused, answered his call. 

“Yes- it’s hard to explain- could you let me in?”

“Well, of course I can, but… why are you back?”

“Long story.”

She sighed. “I’ll open up the castle.”

His ship descended into the hangar, letting out a puff of smoke as it sank to the ground, The doors closed behind it. 

She was waiting for him when he stepped out.

“Is something going on?” She asked. 

“Nothing you need to be worried about.”

“Frustratingly vague and mysterious, as always,” she replied, crossing her arms. “I missed you.”

“Good to see you too,” he said. “Is Lance in the same room?”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” She smirked.

“Well, no.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I know about you and Lance.”

“There’s nothing there!”

She scoffed.

“Yet. But that’s why I’m here. How did you know about us?”

“I caught on eventually, when he stopped flirting with me.” 

Keith gulped.

“Oh, don’t worry, that was a relief. Thank you for that.”

He twisted his hands, nervous. For the longest time, he was jealous of Allura. She was flawless, powerful, intelligent. She caught onto Lance’s attention and held it easily. 

He had no idea what she thought of him, either. They had their ups and downs. It was neither of their faults. Fate tended to inflict unnecessary situations for no reason other than sheer amusement.

They moved past it, of course. Allura, gentle and good natured as she was, could never stay angry for long. Now, they were stuck in the same awkward place that Keith was sure he’d be in with everyone else. 

He cleared his throat. “So-“

“Yes, Lance is in the same room.”

“Thank you.” He smiled.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, tilting her head to the side, “I think you two are great together.”

“Oh… uh… thanks.”

“No need to thank me. Go get him.”

Warm from Allura and her healing glow, Keith took off down the hall.  
.  
.  
.

Lance’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock. He startled.

“Come in,” he called.

Their entry was inaudible, and that in itself was enough to prove who it was. Keith walked like a ghost.

“Hey,” He said, uncertain. His gaze fell on Lance. “Allura said I could find you here.”

“She steered you in the right direction.” Lance, feeling like an exposed nerve, crossed his arms. “Though I guess I’m in the same room, so it’s not that hard.” He chuckled weakly.

Keith scuffed the floor. “New rug.”

“Got it on a diplomatic mission,” Lance said, loosening his pose. “You like it?”

“Well, it’s very you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I like you, idiot.”

Lance stammered. “Wha-“

“Will this make you less confused?” Keith took his face in his hands and leaned in.

Every time Lance imagined kissing Keith, he imagined it ending a million different ways: a punch to the face, the silent treatment, a broken bond. It was easier to imagine a bitter ending. If he got his hopes up too high, the fall would hurt more.

This was nothing like what Lance imagined. Keith’s lips moved with his. There was a hand on his back and Keith curled another in Lance’s hair, pulling him close. They were honey, ocean, molten lava, flowing endlessly.

It felt like something deep inside Lance was breaking open, but it didn’t hurt. Catharsis, healing, fulfillment: an ending he’d never dreamed of. 

A void, filled.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

Keith stepped back. “Sorry, did I-“

“No,” Lance said, half sobbing, half laughing. “You’re perfect.”

“Do you feel it too?”

“Yeah.”

There were no words to fully describe the extent of emotional satisfaction which filled the two. A puzzle claiming its final piece, the highest note in a piece of music, a return home after a long vacation. 

The feeling could be attributed to quintessence or love, but weren’t they one and the same?

“Let me kiss you again,” urged Keith.

“Not right now! I’m a mess!” Lance wiped his eyes.

“It’s cute,” Keith said, cupping Lance’s cheek and dipping his finger in the tear. 

He batted Keith’s hand away, feeling painfully shy, as if they weren’t locking lips just a minute before. “What is wrong with you?”

“I could ask you the same. You’re the one who likes me.”

“Uh,” Lance scoffed, “Kissing you doesn’t mean I like you.”

Keith wasn’t convinced. “Actions speak louder than words, idiot. Why do you think I came back?”

 _I came back for you._ Those unspoken words hung in the air between them. 

Lance choked out a final sob, and then Keith was on him. They tangled together, so tightly wound that their separation was impossible to fathom.

.  
.  
.

Lance was asleep. Keith sat up on one elbow, watching him. The Blade trained him all too well; he slept only sparingly. He preferred to use this time to study Lance.

He traced the curve of his lips with a finger, memorized the swell of his cheek and the cut of his jawline. His hands trailed down to his adam’s apple, drawing circles.

“Beautiful,” Keith said. He pressed his lips to the hollow of Lance’s throat.

“Mm,” Lance complained. His throat rumbled when he spoke.

“Sorry, it’s just me. Go back to sleep,” Keith whispered. He stroked his hair. 

Lance grumbled, and grabbed his hand. Guiding Keith next to him, he sighed as they pressed together. 

“Sleep,” He urged. He eased back into slumber, still holding one of Keith’s hands.

Lulled by his breath, Keith’s eyes fluttered shut.

He didn’t dream of Lance. He didn’t need to.

.  
.  
.

“So, I’m gathering the whole reunion thing went well,” Hunk smiled.

They glanced at their hands, unashamedly connected. “You could say that,” Lance responded.

“What did I say about talking things out?”

“To do it,” said Lance, head bowed.

“It’s more about actions than talk,” Keith said. Lance lifted a brow at that.

“Dude, what the quiznack!” Hunk howled. “Gross!”

Keith spluttered, face blooming bright crimson. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, we know exactly what you meant, Keith old boy,” Lance smirked, elbowing him in the ribs.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

They all laughed, wiping their eyes, and relishing in the weight lifted from their shoulders.

“Hunk, we owe you the world,” Keith said.

“Eh,” Hunk said, waving an airy hand, “More like the _entire universe,_ but we’ll deal with specifics later.”

Keith put a hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “Hey, I know I’m back, but… are we still going to be friends? Like before?”

“I think you’re finally warming up to me,” Hunk said.

“Suddenly I feel threatened,” Lance pouted.

“Seriously, though, what kind of question is that? Of course we can talk,” said Hunk, “What are best friends for?”

Keith grinned at him. “Good.”

An alarm sounded. “Lance, we have to go,” Hunk said, springing to his feet.

Keith and Lance were likewise standing. “Let’s go!” Said Lance.

They looked at Keith, who realized he had no lion to pilot, and sank back into his seat. “Muscle memory,” he said, sheepish.

“We’ll figure it out.” Lance crouched beside him. “I want you back in Voltron, you beautiful, kickass boyfriend.”

“I don’t need a lion to kick ass,” Keith said, bringing his lips to Lance’s. He pressed his forehead to his. “Come back,” he said.

“I’d do that for you any day, babe.”

Keith jerked away, cheeks flushed. “Never mind! Die!”

“You guys,” said Hunk, giggling at the pair and clasping his hands. 

He registered the alarm. His face dropped. “As cute as you guys are, we seriously have to go,” he warned.

Lance laughed and waved goodbye to Keith as he ran.

He was fundamentally wrong about war. Love was no distraction. It wasn’t shallow, it wasn’t vanity, it wasn’t selfishness. Love was what made things worth fighting for. Looking back one final time at Keith, messy haired and smiling, he knew he found it.


End file.
